


Sarishinohara

by Xairathan



Series: Distant Feelings [1]
Category: Neon Genesis Evangelion
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 21:32:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11261433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xairathan/pseuds/Xairathan
Summary: Sometimes, it feels like all of their relationship is a dream. Like none of it is real, except the desire to one day wake up and find that it was.





	Sarishinohara

**Author's Note:**

> _I am always here for you_   
>  _However small my being is to you,_   
>  _and through all of the faults you’ve made, all the wrongs that you do,_   
>  _I wouldn’t mind if they bring me to my end_   
>  _~ kran, Sarishinohara_

_Sometimes, it feels like all of this is a dream. Like none of this is real, except the desire to one day wake up and find that it was._

It does feel like a dream, sometimes. When there’s no way of telling when Asuka’s next letter will come, those ‘normal’ days, the ones without any new words to read, feel like repetitions of ones that’ve come before.

The letters are found in two places, slipped through the slots of her locker at school, or wedged in the crack between the door and the lock at NERV. It’s always a single sheet of notebook paper, one side blank, the other filled from top to bottom with Asuka’s cramped handwriting with absolutely no regard for the printed lines.

Rei takes them home and keeps them hidden, bundled together by thin twine, in a drawer whose bottom is barely covered by the clothes it contains. The more memorable parts, she holds in her mind. She’s not sure what her favorite thing that Asuka’s written might be; it’s either _you know your hands are really soft?_ , or _you smiled at me yesterday_ . It would be like Asuka to notice the small things: the wrinkles in Rei’s shirt that she smooths out, or the creases in Rei’s letters where she’d held the paper tightly.

Rei leaves her replies in the same places. They’re neat sentences written on blank pages, folded into thirds. Sometimes, on the weekends, she’ll mail them, and Asuka will be reading something in class the next day that might be her own notes, or that might not be. She knows when it’s her that Asuka’s writing for, though. Asuka will fold her paper up in a little square, shove it in her bag, and maybe she’ll look in the direction of Rei’s desk to see if she’s noticed. Rei, without fail, smiles back.

There will be no missed opportunities, Rei’s decided. With only so much time left before Instrumentality, each day will count for more than Asuka will ever know. Her urgency, transmitted to Asuka through touches to her hands or the occasional quick embrace, meets Asuka’s own eagerness, which transforms her gestures into moments burned into her mind, etched there by the warmth of Asuka’s body and the knowledge that things such as this won’t escape her, and will find her again.

It’s Asuka’s turn to reply, today. They’ll see each other when they walk home, but Asuka still insists on racing out of the classroom to shove her letter in Rei’s locker.

“You know you could just hand it to me, right?” Rei says when the reunite outside the school gate. Their classmates, moving past in a slow trickle, pay the pair no mind. It’s just Asuka and Rei, talking after school about whatever it is pilots do. They don’t notice how Asuka looks at Rei with an awestruck tenderness, as if there were stars in her eyes, and all the ones in the sky had originated from them.

“I didn’t want to break the tradition,” Asuka says. Rei sees her hand, draped loosely at her side, form a fist. She doesn’t want to wait until everyone’s gone. She wants to hold Rei’s hand, now. She’ll wait for no reason other than that Rei has asked for this- whatever this is between them- to be kept as hidden as possible, because that’s what Asuka does. She fights holding nothing in reserve, and trusts unconditionally, and Rei wonders if she’d love unconditionally as well. Surely Asuka would- it doesn’t seem like her not to.

“You did get it, right?” Asuka says. Rei nods at her bag, pats it gently. She hasn’t read Asuka’s letter yet- she’ll do that when she gets back to her apartment- but it’s there. “Good. I put something in there for you.”

“You did? What is it?”

“You’ll just have to find out later.” In the courtyard, now drained of students, the trees begin to sway in the wind. “Let me know how you like it?” asks Asuka.

“I will.”

“Right.”

Asuka tentatively extends her hand. She’s still as wary about this as Rei is, one of the few times Rei’s ever seen her uncertain. Her relationships, though numerous, have never lasted for longer than a month, and this is the first to contain any semblance of mutual intimacy. Asuka’s fingers still shake when their hands touch, and she doesn’t know whether to walk slightly ahead of Rei, or right by her side. It may be Asuka who leads, but it’s Rei who guides her, who Asuka relies on.

“You put another one in my locker today?” says Asuka.

“Another?”

“Sunflower. Duh.”

“Yes. I did that.” Rei’s cheeks are warming, as they tend to do when Asuka is close to her. “What did you do with it?”

“Wrapped it up and put it in my bag, of course. I don’t even know where you’re getting them from.”

“There are flower shops in Tokyo-3, Asuka.”

“If you give me any more, Misato might ask questions,” laughs Asuka. “I’m keeping them in a cup in my room. Shinji’s already started giving me weird looks.”

“You can tell them that an admirer at school gave them to you.”

“That ‘admirer’ would have to be psychic. I haven’t told anyone I like sunflowers except you.”

“Really?” says Rei, her cheeks heating further. Here’s another secret of Asuka’s, one that speaks to how little of herself she gives away, if even her likes are kept locked away from others. “Should I get you something else, then?”

“Sunflowers are fine, just don’t get them too often. I think we might get busted if someone spotted you carrying one into NERV.”

“Yes. That would be likely.”

Their pace slows. The pavement beneath their feet has grown uneven, though it’s not yet cracked and chipped like the sidewalks by Rei’s apartment. They’re nearing the place where they must part, Asuka turning towards the more populated area of Tokyo-3, and Rei towards the outskirts.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come over this time?” says Asuka. “I’m sure Misato wouldn’t mind. Shinji wouldn’t, either.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I cannot.” Rei looks down, her gaze falling on their joined hands. “Maybe someday,” she whispers. That _someday_ could only come in a dream, but Asuka doesn’t need to know that. The hope that Rei might one day agree is something Rei doesn’t have in her to snuff out.

“Alright, well, the offer stands.” Asuka’s fingers tug at Rei’s. There’s a space between their hands now, slowly growing larger. The cracks become gaps, and then they separate, the coolness of the afternoon breeze chilling Rei’s skin. “Remember to open that letter.”

“I will,” says Rei. She always remembers. It’s the first thing she does when she gets back, the only thing she has to look forward to. These gifts of Asuka’s, more tangible and personal than orders, are the only things that’ve been given to Rei Ayanami as a person, and not as a convenient tool for Instrumentality.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Asuka shuffles back. She’s always the first one to go. It might be because she knows that Rei won’t be the one to part ways with her, that Rei would be content standing there all day, watching her, so long as they were close.

“Goodbye, Asuka.”

Rei’s eyes follow her until she’s disappeared around a corner. She wonders if now was the time when she should’ve taken her chance and kissed Asuka on the cheek. There will be another opportunity, or maybe Asuka will be the one to kiss her first, but the thought keeps Rei there until the red of the setting sun shines into her face, and Rei turns away.

The walk back to her apartment is uneventful, and completely devoid of others. If Rei reached into her bag and opened Asuka’s note now, there would be no one to see. She could, but she waits until she’s made it to her building and ascended the grey, crumbling stairway with its equally bleak walls.

Seated on her bed, Rei finally opens her bag and reaches into it. Her fingertips brush the spine of her notebook, past it, feeling for the square shape of Asuka’s note. She draws it out, unfolds it, and something thin and red drops into her lap. Rei looks to the letter for an explanation and finds it scrawled across the bottom, the words barely discernible: _I know you said you don’t like red, but maybe you would for me?_

Rei sets the letter aside, picking up the ribbon in her lap. It’s the same kind as the ones on their uniforms; this one would have to be Asuka’s. Of course- only Asuka would think of such a sentimental gift, one subtle enough to go unnoticed by anyone other than them. “I will,” Rei whispers to the quiet of her apartment, and to the letter. She curls up the ribbon and places it on the table by her bed, amidst the bottles of pills and the single beaker of water that she’s been using as a cup. Now that will be the first thing she sees when she wakes up, and carried around with her: a piece of Asuka, a reminder, and perhaps a promise of something more.

* * *

Asuka’s hand has a warmth like no other. There’s something in it like a fire, licking away at Rei’s skin the longer they touch, a sensation unlike any she’s felt before. There is the comfort of her bed, the heat of the sun, and then there’s Asuka.

Each time they’ve met, Rei’s found a reason to keep Asuka for a little longer. They wait at the school gates, talking until not only their peers but the teachers have left; they walk slowly home, but the next day there never fails to be a letter slipped into a locker, and sometimes when it’s Rei’s turn, a golden flower.

The sun, sinking lower on the horizon each day as winter draws nearer, throws the long shadows of buildings over Asuka and Rei as they walk back. Today, they’re trying something different: the long way home, a path winding far from the populated areas of the city and through the buildings that have never been lived in, the shop fronts whose glass panes are still clear as the day they were placed.

“We’re coming through here again next time,” Asuka says. “It’s nice and quiet here.”

“It is,” Rei says serenely. Here, the world cannot touch them. Here the world is simply a fixture, something to occupy the space around her and Asuka, and to be traveled in a distant future where they’ve grown to know everything about each other, and need something new to explore. “I am surprised that no one else is here.”

“If they were, they’d ruin it. Besides, there’s nothing to be here for.”

“There is you.”

“And what if I go home? Will you follow me back this time?”

Asuka’s laughter rings out among the buildings; her head is thrown back, hair catching the last strands of sunlight, so she doesn’t see the flicker of unease that crosses Rei’s face. When her eyes settle on Rei again, Rei has that same patient smile, and she clings to Asuka’s hand a little tighter. In spite of this new path, there are buildings in the distance that Rei can recognize, and they’re telling her that Asuka will have to go soon.

“I am unable to, Asuka,” she says.

“Another time, then.”

Asuka’s still unaware, blissfully so, of why Rei will never be able to go back with her. It’s one of the few things Rei will keep from her, if only to ensure Asuka’s continued happiness. “Yes. Some other time.”

“I didn’t get a letter from you today,” Asuka says. Her hand, in the process of freeing itself from Rei’s, pauses. “Did you leave it at home, or something?”

“I sent you one.” Rei’s brow furrows, and she squints at Asuka. The sun, disappearing behind the horizon, dances golden in her eyes. “I sent it last weekend. Did you not receive it?”

“Didn’t get anything.” Asuka frowns, narrowing her eyes in that way that Rei knows means she’s realized something. “I didn’t check the mail on Saturday. Misato did. She probably just shoved it all somewhere thinking it was part of the bills. I’ll find it tonight.”

Asuka’s fingers slip out from between Rei’s, unexpectedly. Rei is left grasping at air: she hadn’t meant to let go, or realized if she even did.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Asuka says. She’s still within arm’s reach. Rei could step forward and kiss her, but then Asuka smiles at her, and it’s as if Rei has forgotten how to breathe. By the time she sucks in some air- cool against her lungs, filling her with a daring she wouldn’t have had before- Asuka has moved away, and she’s gone.

Rei stands for a while on the street corner, watching Asuka walk into and merge with the setting sun until the shadows of the buildings overtake her. That’s Rei’s sign to go. She turns around, and with nothing but a vague sense of where she’s going, finds her way home.

The evening chill has settled over the city when Rei approaches her building. Her uniform fails to shield her, but the hand that had held Asuka’s is still warm. Rei holds it close to herself as she ascends the stairs and nears her apartment.

Lost in her own thoughts and the memory of Asuka’s smile, Rei doesn’t notice that her door is ajar when she walks in. Commander Ikari is there, and two men from Section 2; they stand in the middle of the room, and Rei can read nothing in the blankness of their faces.

The Commander shifts, reaching into the breast pocket of his jacket. He must be here to deliver orders. There would be no other reason why he would be here with an escort, so late at night. Rei steps forward to receive them, but freezes mid-stride. There is no seal on the paper that the Commander holds out to her with a flourish, but a stamp. Through the wide tear in the envelope, Rei sees her own handwriting.

“Take it,” the Commander says. Rei reaches out, shaking so badly that it takes multiple tries to grip the letter. “You are not to contact the Second Child in such a manner again. You are to end your friendship with her, as it is not a part of the plan. Am I clear?”

“Yes,” Rei answers, immediately. To hesitate would have given reason for doubt. To defy the Commander would mean replacement. Commander Ikari nods and leaves the apartment, his escort following closely behind. They shut the door, leaving Rei in the dark and moonlight with the sound of paper crinkling in her fist, the only audible indication of the shattering of her heart.

 


End file.
